


Notos

by LemonCakeDesign



Series: Across the Universe [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonCakeDesign/pseuds/LemonCakeDesign
Summary: And the rush will take you awayLike you're caught in the undertowAnd you will drown in the wakeOf the things you lost to the winds of NotosLord Thancred Waters of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn is throwing a ball. Word is, he's looking for a spouse.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: Across the Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860922
Kudos: 7





	Notos

“Did you hear, Pike?” Temara tells him, one day, as they’re in the training yard. “There’s going to be a _ball_.”

Pike drives his knife into the training dummy, gutting it. “Here?” It seems unlikely. Neither the Emperor nor his only son are much for parties. There used to be _tons_ , when Emperor Solus was still reigning, but Emperor Varis only observes his own birthday and the Crown Prince’s in parties anymore, and those could hardly be called balls.

“Oh, heavens, no.” Temara grins. “It’s to be in _Eorzea_. I was there when the invitation came in for the Emperor, and they have to go, because last time, they got all snippy that we snubbed them. Oh, I hope I’m assigned to the detail to protect our Prince. I’ve always wanted to see a ball.”

“If you want to ever leave this compound again, let alone go to Eorzea, you’ll need to actually work on your knife skills,” Pike points out. He rips his blade from the dummy. “The Spymaster’s not been happy since you botched that job in Doma last month.”

“How was I supposed to know I was going to need to use my knife?” Temara complains. She picks her own blade and starts running through the forms anyway. “I haven’t had to in over a year.”

“You haven’t had a solo job in over a year. You should have brushed up if you were feeling rusty. Be glad he didn’t punish you more than your injuries.”

“We can’t all be perfect little pets like _you_ , L’oatel,” a voice drawls behind him. Cassius eir Valente glides up to them, flipping a knife with clearly practiced ease. “After all, some of us have lives outside of our jobs.”

Pike snatches the knife out of Cassius’ next flip and tosses it at a dummy, spearing it between the eyes. “And some of us don’t want to be disappointments, Valente. Go work on your marksmanship. Your last range targets leave much to be desired.”

“You—” Cassius starts towards Pike, and Pike sweeps his legs out from under him. He plants a knee on his stomach forcefully.

“As much as I allow you to disrespect me, Valente, don’t forget that I still outrank you,” Pike warns, leaning close to the man. He feels him shiver, just slightly, beneath his knee. “Raise a hand to me again, and I’ll cut it off.”

Temara stares at him. Pike raises an eyebrow, and she hurries to return to her knife skills.

Pike goe L’oatel forgets about balls and parties until he’s summoned to the Spymaster’s side three days later.

“Master,” Pike says, going to a knee before him.

“Rise, pet,” Kaseo van Aper says.

He does. Aper gestures for him to sit at the table, and pours him a cup of tea.

“I presume you’ve heard of our invitation to Eorzea,” Aper says, taking a sip of his own tea. “I know how gossip spreads across the compound.”

Pike nods. “I presume his Highness and the Prince will be attending, then?”

“Just the Prince. His Highness is otherwise engaged with...truthfully, it doesn’t matter. He simply does not care to attend. Neither does the Prince, for that matter, but we must send _someone_. After all, one of the Scions is to choose his spouse at the event.”

Pike chokes on his tea. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly so, pet,” Aper says, shaking his head. “Savages and their customs.”

Pike lets the barb wash over him, as usual. “Which of the Scions, Master?”

“Thancred Waters. The troublesome one.”

Pike casts his mind over the information he has on the Scions, the ruling council of Eorzea.

They’re the closest thing Eorzea has to royalty. When Eorzea unified to face the threat of Garlemald, they did so under the banner of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. From what Pike had heard, they hadn’t originally intended to _lead_ the country, merely guide it, but the three city-states were unable to stop squabbling amongst themselves long enough to fight the full might of Garlemald, so they took control.

Thancred Waters was the Spymaster’s counterpart. Rumors said that he commanded an even larger network of information than Aper, that he had eyes and ears in every major country’s palace. That the nation of Doma had won free of the Empire’s influence because of his direct manipulation.

Needless to say, a chance to gather information on him, and possibly influence his new spouse was too great an opportunity to pass up. 

But...

“I didn’t think him the marrying type,” Pike says honestly.

Thancred Waters was also a known philanderer. Aper had been trying for _years_ to sneak a spy into his bed, but those that had managed had not found anything useful. Aper had nearly asked Pike himself to go, but he was too integral to the function of the Frumentarii to risk being revealed.

“I believe the Scions wish to marry him off before we manage to sneak someone useful into his confidence,” Aper replies. “Smart of them, it’s a liability they cannot afford. Our Prince will, of course, be not considered a suitable candidate, but I’ve prepared a few others that I believe will be amenable to our influence. I need you to make sure he chooses one of them, while protecting our Prince.”

“I’m not sure I can…”

Aper sets his tea to the side and reaches across the table to stroke Pike’s cheek. “Of course you can, pet. Because I need you to.” He grips Pike’s chin. “And you don’t want to disappoint me, yes? Not again.”

“Of course not, Master.” Pike bows his head, feeling cold. “I will make sure nothing goes awry.”

“Good, pet.”

* * *

Their retinue travels to Eorzea the next month.

Since Cid nan Garlond defected to Eorzea, they are able to travel by airship and not have it be a hardship. Pike can see it rankles in the airship pilot, that the landing space is better than any Garlemald has seen in years. Pike can’t seem to summon the same ire. Good for Garlond, he thinks. Making something better of himself than the Empire’s pet.

An old wound on his chest aches at the thought, and he moves on.

Pike’s not officially on protection detail until tonight, when they’ll dispense with the formal guard and rely on the Frumentarii for protection. So Pike has free reign to deal with his other business: finding the prospective spouses the Spymaster had set out for Lord Waters.

There’s three of them, two women and a man, all related to the Mirage Trust, one of their allies in Eorzea. All distant enough to not be obvious, but close enough to be malleable. Pike provides them with his dossier of information on Lord Waters, and guides them through how to properly use the information to draw him in. 

“He likes beautiful people, but since you’re all gorgeous, we’ll have no problems,” Pike says, giving them all a wink and a grin. They chuckle quietly, breaking the quiet ice that had been in the room since he entered. “You don’t have to pretend to know everything about his interests, but make sure you pick one or two you’re already familiar with to be really into. And when he talks about the others, ask leading questions, like you’re interested in what he has to say about it. Remember what he says. Practice on each other, or anyone you hold in your confidence. Don’t be too serious about everything, we’ve found that he likes people who can joke with him.”

Despite his smiles, Pike feels gross about this. It’s one thing to get someone to sleep with the man, but to craft a totally fake spouse for him to fall in love with feels wrong on a deeper level. 

His wound aches again, and he frowns, rubbing it.

It doesn’t matter what his feelings are. His master has asked this of him, and Pike must deliver.

* * *

“I hate this,” Thancred says, as he enters the antechamber for the ballroom. “Truly, honestly. I hate this.”

“Well, you were the one that slept with a spy,” Valliant answers. “I _told_ you that this was going to happen one day. You’re lucky that Minfilia is letting you go through this whole charade, at least.”

“I will not be marrying Thancred off to someone he doesn’t enjoy being around,” Minfilia says. She smooths the lapels of Thancred’s suit and straightens his mask. “But I do need him married off.”

“You’re all so cruel to me,” Thancred complains. “It was _one spy_.”

Valliant snorts. “That we know of. You have terrible taste.”

“Hey, I could always be Merlwyb and love _you_.”

“Call off the ball, Minfilia,” Valliant growls. “He can’t get married if he’s dead.”

“There will be no killing tonight,” Y’shtola says, laying a hand on Valliant’s arm. “Though I would so love to see you put him into the dirt, it can wait until next you spar.”

Valliant scowls, but turns away. Thancred sighs.

Truthfully, he’s not totally opposed to this. He knows he’s put them in danger, by chasing tail whenever he can. It makes sense, for him to marry someone he, at the very least, enjoys being around, someone who will be pleased to warm his bed and may even grow to love him, one day. 

A _ball_ was not the exact way he would have chosen to choose a partner, especially not one lasting five days, but it was, Minfilia said, the most expedient way for him to meet a lot of people from various places. Also, he could meet several people, choose the names of those he was most interested in, and have their backgrounds researched by the next day.

Still, though, it rankled to know that he’d been so incautious to put them all in this position, in the first place. That he had such bad taste as to not notice the spy he’d invited to his bedchambers until she’d been caught trying to steal into the meeting the next day. It was a reminder of how lax he’d gotten.

The servant by the door places his hand on the knob as the rest of the Scions file in, giving Thancred encouraging pats on the back or gentle jabs. He weathers them all with good grace, and schools his face into a bland smile as the door opens, and the steward announces them to the gathered guests.

Minfilia steps up to begin her address, as the Antecedent, and Thancred’s eyes scan the ballroom. He’s unable to make out much detail in the sea of people, but he spots one conspicuously dark corner of the room, and he makes eye contact with the Crown Prince of Garlemald. He smirks at Thancred and lifts his drink in toast.

“So they sent a delegation after all,” Alphinaud says, his eyes having followed Thancred’s. “Just the Prince, it would seem.”

“For the best,” Thancred replies. “I don’t think I have the energy to treat with Emperor Varis this week.”

“As if you would be the one handling the bulk of that conversation,” Alphinaud mutters.

“The first dance will begin when Lord Waters has selected his first dance partner,” Minfilia says. “For now, please, enjoy the refreshments.”

“Go greet your guests,” Alphinaud says, after Thancred is rooted to the spot for a bit.

Thancred gives him a put upon sigh, and descends from the dais. Nobody dares to approach him first, either too nervous or too polite, and he ends up searching for a familiar face, in a desperate bid for someone to break the ice.

He spots Riol, chatting with a few young women, and makes a polite beeline to him. “Riol, good to see you,” he says, shaking his hand.

“Lord Waters,” Riol replies. “You look well.”

“As do you,” Thancred replies. “Please, introduce me to these fine young women.” He smiles brightly at them, and they giggle under his attention.

He whiles away a few moments talking to the women. They’re clearly too young for him, though, and don’t share any common interests, so he finds his attention wandering, until he spots a Miqo’te man making his way passed them, a cat mask tied around his face. He’s dressed in soft, dark blues, cut in a Thavnarian style, that complement his blue hair and striking purple eyes.

Even with the mask covering more than half of his face, Thancred knows he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. And so, he makes a snap decision.

He steps into the man’s path, and bows. “Would you do me the honor of sharing the first dance with me?” He holds out his hand.

The man startles, looking around himself. “I-I…”

“Please, good sir. It would be my honor.”

The man bites his lip, but takes Thancred’s hand. The crowd parts for them, and Thancred leads his dance partner to the middle of the ballroom. They fall into position, and Thancred nods to the orchestra, who begin to play a slow waltz.

“I’m sorry if you felt forced,” Thancred says. “I simply could not ignore such a beautiful man crossing my path.”

The man shakes his head, blushing slightly. “It is an honor to dance with you, my lord. I simply did not expect to be singled out for the first dance.”

“How could I not? None here could compare to your beauty.”

The man shakes his head again. “I assume you’ll say that to all your dance partners tonight.”

“Ah, but you are the first I’ve said it to,” Thancred says with a smirk. “And you’ve broken the scale.”

The man rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “I’m sure, my lord. And the men and women who have departed your bedchambers did as well, I suppose.”

“Well, of course. Nothing but the best for me, you see.”

“Perhaps your standards were simply too low,” the man returns. “After all, the best of a pile of dung is still a piece of shit.”

Thancred feels stunned. “I get the feeling you don’t like me, good sir.”

“I am...neutral,” the man says carefully.

“I’m not going to have you executed for having an opinion,” Thancred replies. “If you do dislike me, I am sorry for forcing you to dance with me. I may be lord of the castle, but boundaries are boundaries.”

His dance partner bites his lip. Thancred finds himself distracted by it, his eyes drawn to the man’s plush lips, and he nearly misses the man’s next words.

“I don’t know you well enough to make a judgement on whether or not I…‘like’ you, my lord,” the man finally says. “And I as I am not here to court you, I doubt I will get much chance to form an opinion.”

“You’re not?” Thancred tilts his head. “My apologies. I did not mean to take you from your partner’s side.”

“I never said I was partnered,” the man says, rolling his eyes again. “Just that I am not here to court you.”

“Why _are_ you here, then?” 

“Support, for a dear friend. She has admired you for a long time, and wished for a chance to catch your eye.” The man smiles. “She will be very cross with me, for stealing your first dance.”

“Well, if she’s held so high in your esteem, I shall be honored to be introduced to her.” Thancred smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he intends.

The song ends, and his dance partner separates from him, bowing lightly. “Allow me to introduce her, then.” He waves over a Hyur woman, with soft brown curls. She smiles shyly at the two of them as she steps closer. “My lord, this is Arlene Faulkner. Arlene, you of course know our esteemed Lord Waters.”

“My lord,” Arlene says, curtseying. “It is an honor to be introduced to you.”

“If you respect my esteem so, my lord,” the man says, “Please grant my dear friend the honor of dancing with her for the next dance.”

“Of course,” Thancred says. He extends a hand to Arlene. “My lady, if you would?”

Arlene accepts his hand and nods to her friend. Thancred sweeps her onto the dance floor. She’s a sweet girl, and beautiful, but Thancred finds his attentions elsewhere, searching for the mysterious man he had danced with.

In fact, for the rest of the night, bouncing between dance partners, he finds himself searching for the man, craving one more dance. But he’s disappeared into the crowd, and even as Thancred catches a glimpse of blue hair and a silver cat mask every once in a while, he can’t nail down the man.

When he enters the antechamber after the evening is over, Minfilia lays a hand on his shoulder. “Any promising matches?”

And Thancred realizes there’s only one man he cared about, and he didn’t even catch his name. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: So I have some free time, I should work on any of the WIPs I have.  
> My brain, kicking down the door: CINDERELLA AU  
> Me: Oh goddamn it.
> 
> So yeah! Cinderella AU! This takes place in the canon universe, though with some obvious changes. No Ascians, for a start. Don't worry too much about the world building, it's all a flimsy excuse for Pike and Thancred to dance at a ball :3 Would this have been easier with Haurchefant? Maybe! Am I more focused on the Pike/Thancred dynamic recently? Yep!


End file.
